Our travels have taken us to “Alabama the Beautiful”. We are out here visiting Mason while he is in training for two, long months. Gwen and I came out here and planned a few trips around this trip, since we were in the area (are you following that confusion?). While we are out in Alabamastan, we decided to go to New Orleans for the first time and, also take a beach trip to Panama City Beach, Florida.
We left home for what seemed like “the longest drive ever” to Alabama. After the trip from Kansas to North Carolina, I really thought driving through Missouri was “the longest drive ever” but, I was wrong. It was this one. Mason said, “It’s about an eight drive so it should take you twelve hours to get here.” WHAT? Oh no! I am a firm believer in, “I’ll take my chances developing a blood clot and not drink anything and drive straight through, only stopping for gas, and speeding as much as I can get away with.” I am also a firm believer in run on sentences with terrible punctuation.
Twelve hours later and one stop for gas, we were at Fort Rucker.
Anyone who has read any of these blogs before, or follows us on the Facebook, knows that we are not unfamiliar with strange situations. Passing three naked people on the side of Route 29 in Alabama was not a shock. It wasn’t an indication of passing into the twilight zone either. I have friends from here. They have theories about fighting naked (to win), because you take your enemy by surprise! While they stare, in shock, at you, coming at them, naked, you strike and win! Seems legit.
We made it to post and stopped for gas, almost there! I made the mistake of going the wrong direction down an aisle in the parking lot. A man hollered at me, I apologized (sincerely, mind you) but he just kept yelling. Well hell, what kind of penance do these people require? Mason told me he had been exposed to some very grouchy people here. I thought he was exaggerating. If this keeps up I won’t be able to keep my middle finger to myself or, my mouth shut. Day one and I already know it’s a matter of time before I start telling people that their mama’s should have taught them to accept a sincere apology graciously.
Day two, we went out into town (there should be air quotes around the word town, can you see them?) and there were more grumpy people. I’m starting to wonder what’s in the water here. I might want to rethink doing a blog about Assholes (capital A intentional). The place is run down. I’m saying “der-a-lee-kt” in my head like Zoolander did. I’m also surmising that people here don’t have anything, not because they are poor, but because there is nothing to have. Nothing.
There is Booyah here (capital B intentional). I beg Mason to take me to the Indian/Greek karaoke restaurant. I’m wondering what kind black magic is in there! He swears it’s just curry and gyros but I’m thinking Tandoori Spanakopita and Bon Jovi on a Thursday night. That, dear readers, is my idea of a good time!
A few days pass by, mostly helping Mason with laundry and getting his car fixed (yawn) and he promises me vindaloo gyros next week. Since he’s not one to disappoint and, I need things to be excited about, like Disney trips, this is the next best thing. I wait. There is a Boll Weevil Monument here “from a grateful community for all the Boll Weevil has done” and I immediately picture citizens bowing down to this bronze god in the middle of town. It’s covered in pink sparkly ribbon. I am in awe. #bollweevilnation is a REAL thing! Awe.
Gwen and I headed out to New Orleans a day before Mason could go. We were going to meet BFF Nina for a long weekend of voodoolicious adventure. Gwen and I ended up on what is NOW “the longest drive ever” thanks to traffic and downpours. All checked in, ready for booyah, we headed out to eat.
We had a reservation at Emeril’s (because we are tourists) and decided to walk. The Google said it was one mile away, it ended up being five hundred miles but that’s ok; we needed the exercise (in patience, humility, persistence, and we really could have been awarded a girl scout survival badge for even getting there because we ended up covered in mud and, Gwen almost ate bugs and drank from a fountain). It was also five thousand degrees and, so humid it was like breathing underwater. We made it to the restaurant, smelling like goats, because my deodorant gave up the minute I got out of the car. This was gearing up to the best trip ever.
Mason arrived the next day, we toured the cemetery where the “Voodoo Queen”, Marie Laveau is buried, shopped for antiques, ate more amazing food, experienced life as smelly goats again, and had our Tarot cards read by a gay, cowboy, mystic (because being seen by the “World Famous Voodoo Bone Lady” was too obvious AND she had a really long line). He told me I was basically perfect but, I should be “more weird”. Forever more, I will use that gay, cowboy, mystic to validate life choices down the path of “more weird”. I haven’t figured out how yet and, maybe I never will. Maybe that Voodoo Bone Lady had a longer line because she finished her sentences. No telling.
Mason had to leave the next day so Gwen, Nina and, I took a Vampire walking tour. I have not seen such hokey bullshit since…well, never. “Fabio the vampire wannabe tour guide” had women’s white stretch pajama jeans on and, used an “Army buddy, Airborne” to validate a story about vampires. Ha. Hahaha. Hahahahaha. That was cute. Three trashy young ladies that had made some poor choices in tattoos and, drugstore hair dye totally fell for it and, hung all over him. Nina and I got our money’s worth watching THAT show more than the “real vampires of New Orleans” tour. OH and the muppets have been teaching us how to ward off vampires for years, so you know. The count is for real! He counts because he has OCD so make sure to keep a pocket of rice to throw for vampires to stop and count. I just saved ya’lls lives AND twenty-five bucks (twenty-three if you book in advance). You are welcome!
We are back at Fort Rucker, letting the bugs enjoy us. The gate guards are nasty, the people are grumpy, and I’m still just wondering why they are all so ruined. I ran into another grumpy person at the gym and was tempted to ask him WHY is he so grumpy. Heat makes people crazy, not grumpy. I am going to ask the next person, I’ve already warned Mason. I almost can’t wait to meet another Asshole! Stay tuned!
Gwen and I are going to continue biding our time watching shark movies and waiting for Sharknado 2 to come on. That is ALL there is to do here. On the bright side, Gwen is now a SyFy shark movie aficionado. What more could you want your ten year old to be?